FYI: This story is entirely fictional. No Real teenagers were harmed in the writing of this story
Me and some buddies decided to go out last Halloween and raise some hell. I didn't know at the time that they were serious about the hell part. We were all packed into my friend Dale's pick up truck and heading down Sikes road when I realized where we were probably headed. There was an old grave yard, not many people knew about it, my dad told me about it a long time ago and even though I knew where it was I had never actually been there. It was a private cemetery with mostly civil war era graves. There were maybe ten graves located there because it was a privately owned cemetery and only the family had been buried there. When I realized where we were headed I got a little nervous. One thing that concerned me was the fact that to get to this grave yard we would have to park along the road then walk through a huge field to the woods behind an old barn. There were no roads that led to the cemetery, the grass and weeds were way over grown, no one kept up the place anymore and it was pitch black outside. The other concern that I had was my Dads story about the place. It wasn't a good place to be, especially at night, and being that it was Halloween night just made it that much creepier. The story was that two brothers, each joined the army on opposing sides. They met in battle and killed each other. Their bodies were sent home and they were buried in the family cemetery right next to each other. Since both had died in the war and since they had actually killed each other, you can imagine that the two spirits of these brothers weren't too happy with each other. Even in death they were still fighting and over the years many people had caught glimpses of the boys, in full civil war uniforms, one grey and one blue, guns in hand, shooting at each other in an endless battle that repeated itself every year on the anniversary of their deaths. Another lore said that anyone that messed with their graves would meet a quick and painful end. That was part of the reason that the cemetery had been abandoned so long ago. Who wanted to visit their loved ones when two soldiers were constantly rising from the grave and fighting with each other?
So, as we came to the end of Sikes road and my buddy pulled the truck over I had to speak up. I told the guys of my fears and suggested that we go someplace else. At this point even Mary Janes Grave sounded like a better option even though my dad had warned me never to go there either. Not that I listened. I'd been there many times and nothing ever happened. At least if the old witch did show herself she wouldn't be shooting at us! Well the guys didn't want to hear my protests. Dale wanted to see this cemetery for himself and see if there was any truth to the stories. I don't really think Halloween night was the night they died but I didn't know for sure and I sure as hell didn't want to find out. Still, I was easily influenced by my friends and not wanting to seem like a puss I went along with them regardless. That was a mistake I would soon regret. The long walk up there through the field was uncomfortable, we each had a flash light but even our lights weren't enough to completely cut through the murky darkness. I could see maybe a few feet in front of me but that was about it. It was really unnerving.
We reached the cemetery and started to look around. It wasn't really that impressive, just a bunch of old head stones. The two brothers we found pretty quickly. They had identical slab like head stones laying side by side with their names, dates of death, ages and ranks chiseled into the white stone. The stones were weathered and chipped and over grown by weeds. A lot of what had been written on the slabs had been worn so badly that it was really hard to read, especially in the dark. As soon as we had arrived, I was ready to leave, but Dale had other ideas. He'd brought a ouija board along with us, another thing my dad had warned me to stay away from. Dale smiled a big, mischievous, smile as he held up the board. "Let's have a seance." He told us.
"Not a good idea." I told him. "My dad knows a lot about this kind of stuff, he's all into witch craft and shit and he told me this is stuff we definitely don't want to mess around with."
"Your old man's full of shit." Dale laughed. "These things are't dangerous. All we're going to do is see if we can talk to some ghosts."
"Yeah..." I rolled my eyes. "But it's not always JUST ghosts that come through those things."
He wasn't interested in listening to reason and the other guys were eager to do the seance too. Against my better judgment I went along with them but I still had a sick feeling in my gut that this was a really really bad idea. I heard a voice in the back of my mind that sounded eerily close to my fathers voice telling me to turn around and leave as fast as I could. I should have listened but I dismissed the voice as just my imagination.
Dale had the board sitting on one of the two slabs and the rest of us kind of made a circle around it with dale sitting right in front facing the board. Since my dad was a witch and all he asked if I wanted to start us out. I declined the offer but I did put my fingers on the center piece like everyone else. Dale decided to be the one to speak first. He asked if there was anyone in the cemetery that wanted to talk to us. When the middle piece didn't move he asked again if there were any spirits with us. Slowly the piece began to slide across the board to the word yes. Everyone got excited, except me, I got scared.
"Who's here with us?" Dale asked.
The center piece moved to spell out a name. "Roger."
I wasn't certain but I could have sworn that Roger was the name of one of the brothers.
"Did you die in the war?" Dale asked.
"yes."
"Are you buried here in this cemetery?"
"yes."
"Are you one of the two brothers who killed each other?"
"yes."
"Did you fight for the north or the south?"
"South."
The guys were really getting into this, asking questions and making ooooohh and ahhhhhh sounds when ever they would get an answer. I don't know why but I suddenly had the urge to speak to the spirit so I asked him, "Why are you still here?"
The center piece jerked hard and dragged our hands across the board as it spelled out, "Revenge!"
"who do want revenge against?" I asked the spirit. "Your brothers dead. It's not like you can kill him again."
"Children." The board spelled out.
"Whose children, your brothers children?"
"Yes."
"You want to kill all your brothers descendants?"
"Yes."
"Well that's harsh." Dale laughed. "His kids didn't do anything to you."
"Lies." The board spelled out.
"Who lied?" I asked.
"Family." The spirit said. "Murder."
"You're saying you were murdered?" Now I was getting more interested in what the spirit was telling us.
"Yes." The spirit answered.
We continued to ask questions and from what the spirit told us we figured out that the brother from the north was in love with the brother from the souths fiance. They got into an argument and the one from the south had walked away but his brother shot him in the back, killing him. His plan was to go back home and marry the fiance but it didn't work out that way. After killing his brother he was ambushed by confederate soldiers and shot and killed. The family told everyone that he had been killed by his brother while defending himself and that both boys died in the fight. I guess the family, being a northern family, didn't want to believe or admit that their good son would kill his brother in cold blood so they made the brother fighting for the south out to be the bad guy.
I could understand why he was upset. He was betrayed by his brother and all over a woman and then his family couldn't even admit the truth. I even started to feel a little sorry for the guy. That was. until we decided to call it a night and leave. We tried to say Good-bye but the spirit refused to leave, then he did something that chilled me to the bone. He spelled out Dale's name. The spirit was singeling him out.
"What about me?" Dale asked the spirit.
"Death." The spirit spelled out.
"I'm going to die?" Dale laughed, refusing to believe anything that was being said.
"Yes." The spirit told him.
"Okay, I'll play along. When am I going to die? Dale asked.
"Tonight." The board spelled out.
"Yeah, fuck you." Dale said, getting a bit angry. "Have a great after life."
I asked him what the board meant by that, why would the spirit want to kill him?
"It's just a joke." Dale told me. "One of these clowns is playing around with me, that's all."
He explained that he was actually one of the descendants of the dead brothers. The brothers fiance discovered that she was pregnant after the boys left for the war. After the boys died, everyone had always assumed that the father of her child was the brother who fought for the south, her fiance. But there were always rumors that it was actually the brother who fought for the north who was the father, but no one knew for sure. Dale didn't really believe in ghosts but he figured if there was any truth to stories then maybe he could find out the truth. Was he related to the brother who fought for the south or the one who fought for the north? Now it all made sense to me. That's how he knew about the cemetery and that's how he knew which graves belonged to the brothers, one of them was his great-great grandpa or something.
He was convinced that it was all a joke though. He'd told the others why he wanted to come before we'd ever left my house and he assumed that they were just trying to scare him but when they each denied having any part in it I knew that it was really the spirit of the confederate brother that we had been talking to. The other guys were sure of it too and they were scared.
That was it, we were done and good-bye or not we were leaving. we jumped up and Dale grabbed the board. We headed for the field when all of our flash lights suddenly went out at the same time, leaving us standing there, blinded by the inky black night that surrounded us. No moon, no stars, and only the sounds of our own hearts beating wildly in our chests. The silence was broken though by a blood curdling scream that I will never forget for as long as I live. I knew at once that the scream we heard was Dale's.
That was the last thing we heard before the flash lights suddenly came back on. Startled, we all glanced around and that's when we realized that Dale was gone. The board and his flash light were laying in the grass right where he was standing but he was no where to be seen. We must have searched for hours, calling his name, sure that he was playing a joke on us but as the sun came up we realized that something really bad had happened. We called his parents first and they called the police. Before we knew it the road was filled with cars and there were people wandering all through the field and the woods looking for him. They searched the old barn and even the ruins of the old farm house that the family once owned but no one was able to find him.
My dad showed up sometime later to pick me up. He knew before I even did that Dale was gone, like gone for good. I still had hope that maybe he'd just gotten freaked out and was hiding somewhere but when I saw the look in my dads eyes I knew that wasn't true. What ever was in that cemetery that night, angry spirit, or something else, whatever it was had taken my friend and I had the sinking feeling that I was never going to see him again.
I gave my statement to the police and then my dad was allowed to take me home. The search went on for a few more days but people began to give up hope. By the third day they didn't figure on finding him alive, if they found him at all. Some people say he ran away from home, but if that was the case why was his truck still there? No one ever did find out what really happened to Dale but I know that his parents never stopped looking for him. The cemetery has since been fenced off with warning signs posted all around it. I thought about getting out my dads ouija board and trying to contact Dale and find out what really happened that night but my dad advised me against it. dale was gone and it wasn't a smart idea to go rattling anymore spiritual cages.
"Let him rest in peace." Dad told me. "Him and all the other spirits. What's dead is best left dead."
Smartest words he'd ever said to me. I just wish I had listened to him before that night.
